tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71697398040051237942014-10-02T23:57:21.778-07:00vimsandfanciesvimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-45992881654795569172012-05-11T05:02:00.000-07:002012-05-11T05:05:59.127-07:00Baba<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 28px;"></span><br /><div>न किसी को रूठने का मौका दिया&nbsp;</div><div>न कभी मनाने का&nbsp;</div><div><div><br /></div><div>न कभी पीठ हिमाला बनी</div><div>न कभी पेट पर नन्ही&nbsp;उँगलियों से नाम&nbsp;गुदवाये</div><div><br /></div></div><div>न कभी सर शान से ऊँचा हुआ</div><div>न कभी बोझ से&nbsp;पस्त हुए कंधे</div><div><br /></div><div>न कभी कोई हाथ गुस्से से उठा</div><div>न कभी कोई सर सहम के नीचा हुआ</div><div><br /></div><div>न कोई नेकनामी किसी का सरमाया बनी</div><div>न कभी बदनामी किसी के हाथ&nbsp;लगी</div><div><br /></div>पीढ़ियों&nbsp;के सच को हमने झुठला दिया<br /><div>न कभी तुम बाबा बन सके, न मैं</div><div><br /></div><div>Na kisi ko ruthne kaa maukaa diyaa</div><div>na kabhi manaane kaa</div><div><br /></div><div>na kabhi peeth himaalaa banee</div><div>na kabhi pet par par ungliyon se naam gudwaaye</div><div><br /></div><div>na kabhi koi haath gusse se uthaa</div><div>na kabhi koi sar sehem ke neechaa huaa</div><div><br /></div><div>na koi neknaami kisi ka sarmaaya bani</div><div>na kabhi badnaami kisi ke haath lagi</div><div><br /></div><div>Peedhiypn ke sach ko humne jhuthlaa diyaa</div><div>na kabhi tum baba ban sake, na main</div></div>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-13303457015914712642012-05-10T08:02:00.001-07:002012-05-10T08:07:21.454-07:00Tamasha<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;">घर बदला, शहर बदला, ठिकाना वही&nbsp;रहा</span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;">मैं जहां भी रहा, मेरा&nbsp;</span><span style="line-height: 1.8;"><span style="font-size: small;">पता वही रहा</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><div><span style="font-size: small;">दुनिया आइनों की, दरो दीवार आईने</span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;">आइनों के बीच, मेरा&nbsp;चेहरा नहीं रहा</span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: small;">यूँ&nbsp;तो&nbsp;</span><span style="font-size: small;">दुनियादारी भी&nbsp;ज़रूरी है</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;">पर इस की फ़िराक में</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">,</span>&nbsp;<span style="line-height: 1.8;"><span style="font-size: small;">परीशा ही रहा&nbsp;</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;">लोग आये गए, हुजूम निकल गया&nbsp;</span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;">क़िरदार&nbsp;बदलते रहे, तमाशा वही रहा</span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;">तुम सा बनने की पुरज़ोर कोशिश की&nbsp;मैंने</span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;">कुछ&nbsp;तुम बदल गए, कुछ&nbsp;मैं&nbsp;वो ही रहा</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ghar badlaa, sheher badlaa, thikaanaa wahi rahaa.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Main jahaa bhi rahaa, meraa pataa wahi rahaa.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Duniyaa aaino ki, daro deewaar aaine.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Aaino ke beech, meraa chehraa nahi rahaa.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yun to duniyaadaari bhi zaroori hai.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Par iski firaaq mein, parishaa hi rahaa.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Log aaye gaye, hujoom nikal gayaa.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Q</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">irdaar badalte rahe, tamaashaa wahi rahaa.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tum saa ban ne ki purzor koshish ki maine.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Kuchh tum badal gaye, kuchh main wo hi rahaa.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div></div></div>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-46524819099049221162011-11-28T00:02:00.000-08:002011-11-28T00:11:25.265-08:00Eternal Sunshine of a Spotted Mind<div class="gmail_quote" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); "><div class="im"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >I stand on my terrace and look across to the terrace diagonally opposite to me and there's my neighbour playing with his dogs there. He's got two lovely daughters and a wife laughing away as the dogs chew on the ball and on each other. I stand there staring at them enjoying a normal sunday afternoon. It looks like a perfect picture of happiness, everything a man could ask for. Everything i should be envious of. But i wasn't.And that makes me wonder what is happiness after all. Why is that one man's idea of happiness is not exactly the same for the other!<br /></span></p></div><div><div class="im"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >My friends take vacations abroad. My friends are getting new hobbies and newer kicks in their life. Somebody's learning guitar, someone's learning to dance, to trek, making films, updating their FB profile with most awesome status messages. Things that make them happy, things they want to do. I'm doing none of it. Not that i want to do any of it. I'm sitting here writing this purposeless post.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Most of my friends have already bought a house. Some are planning their first baby. Some are contemplating buying their second car. Most of them have their life figured out. Or at least some goals, short term and otherwise, set. I don't exactly envy them. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></p></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Coming from where i am coming from, i should be thankful for what i got. For where i stand. But i am not. I don't know what i want from life. I dont know if i am given another chance, i'd do anything any better, any different. i don't even know if i know any better. I try to envy people who read self help book and find the meaning of their life. Who attend healing seminars and find peace. Who read Rumi and Rajnish and find the purpose of life. The Karma and Chakra of life et al. But i don't .</span></p><div class="im adL"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >I'm such an ungrateful bastard when i say i don't exactly care for any of it. I wish i could turn to people who care for me and tell them, i don't care if i am a let down to you. You guys invested in a wrong guy. !'d much rather have a switch off button and escape. That i'd much rather look at this circus from the distance. Or maybe i woudn't even care to watch.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >I am forever told that i think too much. And that i talk a lot more than that. That i could've been more hands on, at home and at work. Maybe you guys chose a wrong person to do the job. I know i tricked you into believing otherwise. But how long will this con job go on! It's a matter of time before you will be frustrated of me and show me the door, for i can't find the escape button myself.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >I wish i was living in some jungle, where even the airplanes woudn't fly overhead. Where i wouldn't know there's other world out there. I wish there was nothing more to know than your immediate sorrounding. No pressure to be intelligent. To know stuff. I can't even tell you that there are 100 times more films i haven't watched than i have. That i barely read. I have never made a painting. I have never composed a tune. I have nothing which is my own. I, like most of my generation, am nothing more than a wikipedia intelligent.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >I can't write poetry. I don't have any stories to tell. I don't have epiphanies. I can't cull out instances from life and relate them to people in a way that intrigues them, engages them. I don't have the ability to suck anybody into my belief. And I know people who have ability to do that. And i don't. I wish i could.</span></p><div><br /></div></div></div></div>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-47893501900274307422011-10-03T00:06:00.000-07:002011-10-03T00:18:28.084-07:00A Perfect Bromance<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J17DvTeI0cY/TolgkYCRk5I/AAAAAAAAAiY/2wab4TnZiHs/s1600/drive_ver5_xlg.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J17DvTeI0cY/TolgkYCRk5I/AAAAAAAAAiY/2wab4TnZiHs/s320/drive_ver5_xlg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659160584811287442" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">From the moment the background score kicked in, i knew i am going to love Drive more than any of my expectations. I'm a big fan of violence on the screen. Not the Final Destination and Fast &amp; the Furious kind of choreographed candy-floss violence but real unflinching human violence. Drive is all that and more.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">Danish film maker Nicolas Winding Refn bursts into Hollywood with sheer brilliance, blood, gore and all. i've only seen two of his previous 7 films but drive is the best i like. In this time and age of mega budget crappy franchise films, funnily enough this is one film where the studios have scaled down a proposed big budget film starring Hugh Jackman into an indie project. Ryan Gosling brilliantly plays a quiet young man who's 'Hollywood stunt driver by the day' and a 'heist getaway car driver by night'. A man without a name and no history. Ryan gosling's on a roll, he's in every other films lately but then who's complaining. And we're certainly not complaining about the budding bromance between Refn and Gosling. I hope this relationship, 'marriage' as Refn calls it, only keeps growing.<br /><br />Freshly original and immensly passionate about his craft, Refn is a delight to listen to.<br /><br /></span></span><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/video/2011/may/22/cannes-film-festival-ryan-gosling?INTCMP=ILCNETTXT3486" target="_blank">http://www.guardian.co.uk/<wbr>film/video/2011/may/22/cannes-<wbr>film-festival-ryan-gosling?<wbr>INTCMP=ILCNETTXT3486</a><br /><br /><a href="http://youtu.be/7-6YKewSHH0" target="_blank">http://youtu.be/7-6YKewSHH0</a> <span style="font-size:85%;"> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />A very unconventional film on a conventional premise, Drive is probably the best film of the year. its a genre bending film. There are car chases alright but it's more of cat and mouse play between the cops and the driver than the usual mindless rubber burning hollywood car chases. Typically these chases are accompanied by bombastic high octane music, what you get instead here is 80s style pop. Even the font of the film's title is girly and retro.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">Most people don't know about Drive or don't care. We watched the film in a near empty hall. Most of the people were there expecting a typical 'action packed' film which they i believe didn't get and every 5 minutes or so, some beefed-up pussy would leave the hall clutching his girlfriend's hand.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Lately Hollywood is drawing a lot from European films and making Hollywood rehash of successful swedish films. Let the right one in directed by Tomas Alfredson and the Millenium Trilogy directed by Niels Arden Oplev have been re done in Hollywood. And then there’s refn with his brilliance. Move over mr. Tarantino, the Vikings are coming. </span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Do yourself a favour and go watch the film before it's replaced in cinema by some mindless stupid assembly line Hollywood production. It's a film Hollywood would be proud of. It's a film you'd love to watch if you already haven't. As a critic wrote, <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">'Drive is a film you have seen before but you have never seen it like this'</span>. Enough said. </span> </span>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-18296482956172966552011-08-09T01:27:00.000-07:002011-08-09T01:34:17.487-07:00Two and a Half Men<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Most religions are based on the concept of one divine power or God. And in most of them, three entities represent that one divine force. The Holy Trinity of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiv is central to hindu mythology or belief system, so is the idea of The Father, The Son and The Holy Ghost in Christianity. My knowledge is pretty limited in the subject but i'd read somewhere that even Greek and Egyptian mythology too mention the concept of holy trinity. </span>
<br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">
<br />The idea of trinity is a world in itself. It’s the politics of life on earth. it's how every story unfolds, like every story has a beginning, the middle and the end. Everybody's got to play their part in this play, and play it right. So, according to Hindu trinity - Brahma is associated with creation or beginning, Vishnu is associated with life and it's maintenance and finally Shiv is associated with end or destruction.</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">
<br />They say god created man in his own image. I absolutely agree with that. So if you thing about it, nothing much has changed over millions of years. Men are still the image of trinity. If you want and if you please, you can pretty much categories most men of the world into these three categories. And you can pretty much categories the women who go for these men as lakshmi, parvati and saraswati. </span>
<br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">
<br />Ok yeah, you'd say saraswati was supposed to be Brahma's daughter so we cannot call them a couple and yadayadayada, but then again, legend has it that he was so enamored by her that he supposedly grew heads on all sides to be able see her wherever she went. The dude had to lose his fifth head when he tried looking up. I swear to god, i'm not making this up. Check your mythology on Brahma and you’ll know what I’m talking about. So yeah, they were forever together. One of the earliest example of older professor-young student admiration club thingy, i guess. The world has a huge respect for brahma character and rightly so. He's the Creator dude. The scientists, the scholars, the intellectuals, the artists, the nerds and all. Dudes who start a thing, maybe turn it into a movement and then rule the world. And they got the babes! And money, a lot of it, if you happen to be a jewish nerd. </span>
<br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">
<br />Then of course there's the Vishnu. The Maintenance guy. The metrosexual. The MBA. The corporate lawyer. And an occasional advertising guy. The squeaky clean guy who every girl wants to take home to mama. The man with all the boxes ticked right. The smartass who runs the show smoothly. the man of the world. And all the lakshmis love him. He’s such a MAN, you know!</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">
<br />Shiv gets the worst deal. I mean, it's not funny when you're reduced to a destroyer, or worse still, to a dick! The good for nothing, lazy, uncompetitive, loner guy. The destroyer. Some guys don't like to work, they like to smoke up and while away their time (read meditate) but you guys wouldn't have it other ways till you try and make a vishnu of that guy. 'He's so passionate, he's such a good lover, such a good boyfriend material, sister...but he's SO irresponsible. I doubt if he'll ever become a good husband and a good father. For all you know he will chop off my son's head and try to replace it with an elephant's. I love him , but i am so scared he's wasting away his life.' you get a life, sister! boo you!</span>
<br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">
<br />So yeah, you Brahmas and the vishnus, agree that you rule the world. but you know what, you need this shiv guy to validate your existence. . You could be the makers and the rules but you're nothing without a guy who's ever threatening to destroy what you got. You need the bad ass to make you look good. You can't do without him so let's get on with it. </span></span>
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<br />vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-53576342787060857152011-02-21T01:36:00.000-08:002011-02-21T01:39:11.117-08:00The Curious Case Of Vishal Bhardwaj<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">Let me begin by saying that I am the biggest Vishal Bhardwaj fan that there is. I forever have been. Even before Vishal Bhardwaj became a fashionable music director, I’ve been in love with his work. And then when he directed his second film Maqbool, it blew me away. I have waited for each one of his films. I of course watched Saat Khoon Maaf and came out more disappointed than I thought I would be. There are no Saat Khoon Maaf spoilers here. It’s again the ranting of a fan who feels betrayed. I somewhere didn’t have a good feeling about this film…something didn’t feel right. But then even a half decent film by Vishal bhardwaj is a million light years ahead than many other directors. But I didn’t find it even a half decent film, and it’s heart breaking. It feels like a huge sense of loss. Like somebody my own made an unpardonable mistake and put all us believers into a crying shame. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">Saat Khoon Maaf is as clueless as it can get. Susanna is one woman on a killing spree of her 6 husbands, but for no apparent reason. There’s hardly any back story to why she’s the way she is. No human angle to whether in the whole process of defeating the evil, she herself embodies it( a film subject, South Koreans have masterfully handled). She’s got no moral dilemmas, no human conflict. If a comedy is what Vishal bhardwaj intended to make, then he successfully did so. Because people laughed along even in the supposed serious scenes.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">I wonder why he’s doing what he’s doing. He is one of the most powerful men in the Indian film industry. He has the ability to change the kind of films people would go watch in cinema halls. But instead, he is constantly compromising on his craft. Directors like Dibakar banerjee( who again I have huge respect for as a film maker) and Anurag Kashyap (who I think is very derivative…his direct lifts from the films of Fateh Akin and such directors is quite blatant, but still a fearless film maker) have been doing some amazing job. They are taking up different subjects and are casting apt people. Somebody like Dibakar Banerjee, who after two successful films could have picked any big subject and made a film on it. But instead, he chose to make a film with hand held camera with no established actors. That shows the arrogance and belief of a director in his craft. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">Though it’s his second film, Bhardwaj truly burst into the scene with Maqbool in 2004 and it still remains the best Indian film I have watched in the last 10 years. It was such an amazing film with brilliant human drama, an all consuming theme of greed, passion and deceit. Brilliantly casted and even brilliantly directed, it is a masterpiece. The pride of having a film maker like him in our era is immeasurable. Sadly it has only waned after that. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">But then, Vishal Bhardwaj has been very meticulously working towards it. He has been constantly compromising on his cinema. The crack started appearing from his second film Omkara onwards. Taking stars over actors, giving precedence to style over substance. And I repeat, that his half decent films also have more soul than a lot of films by other film makers. It’s just that after a Maqbool, he’s set his own standards so high, that it is a huge task to live up to. But a die hard fan like me would forever want that from him.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">The sad part is that Vishal Bhardwaj insists that Priyanka Chopra with her limited range of acting skills is a great actor and that she should get the National Award for her role. And she will. Because when it comes to acting, we are quite happy with doling out big awards to non-actor stars over really talented actors. How else would you justify Arjun Rampal getting a National Award for Rock On and Priyanka Chopra getting it for Fashion last year. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">With his short film on AIDS, Blood Brothers included, Vishal has already made 7 films. The next projects he’s supposedly making are a musical with Priyanka Chopda and then there’s another film in line with Shahrukh Khan. God only knows what to expect out of them. </span></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-46055108215774299042011-01-16T10:40:00.000-08:002011-01-16T10:40:46.352-08:00vimsandfancies: This Truman Show<a href="http://vimsandfancies.blogspot.com/2011/01/this-truman-show.html?spref=bl">vimsandfancies: This Truman Show</a>: "Today, The Truman Show was on tv again and I ended up watching it again. I quite like the film. 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mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Today, The Truman Show was on tv again and I ended up watching it again. I quite like the film. Well, I woudn’t call it one of my most favourite films, <span style=""> </span>but I love the completely original idea of the film.</span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">As you would know it is the story of a reality tv star called Truman Burbank, played by Jim Carrey. The scary part is that his entire life is THE reality tv. Everything he does is watched by millions of audiences worlwide. Whether he's eating, sleeping, heading off to work or visiting the loo, the world is watching – and he doesn't even know it. At least, not at first.</span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Since birth, Truman has been brought up inside a giant Hollywood dome, inside of which is the made-for-TV town of Seahaven. Everyone he knows – his neighbours, his workmates, his parents, his wife, and even his best friend since childhood – are actors hired by media mogul Christof,( brilliantly played by Ed Harris) for the planet's biggest and most intricate one-man reality show.</span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Towards the end, he smells something fishy and subsequently plans his escape.<br /></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">The story is fascinating. And scarily unnerving too. The insecure person that I am, I have forever doubted if my life is a reality tv. What if I’m live entertainment? mundane but entertaining to some. <span style=""> </span>What if all this is make-believe. What if my mother is a brilliant actor, so are my siblings.What if priti actually hates the fat, short and ugly me but sticks to the role brilliantly, day after day. <span style=""> </span>What if my friends deliver their <span style=""> </span>lines, do their part brilliantly, switch off the light and go do the same scene brilliantly in some other set. And for all i know, they’re getting awards for their performance. But I don’t have a clue. Nobody awards me. I’m the lead character, am I not! <span style=""> </span>Maybe they are stocking <span style=""> </span>my best lead award, year after year, but I don’t think I’ll ever see them.<br /></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">The thing is that we always accept the reality of our surroundings without question. Maybe there’s more to it than I know.<span style=""> </span>At times, it all seems like it is the case. And if it is, then I hope I’m a good entertainer and you’re having a good time. </span></p>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-55637614928548839892010-10-14T10:38:00.000-07:002010-10-14T20:30:37.676-07:00Please Give<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/TLdBEaj7oxI/AAAAAAAAAdA/pgkAr04pA3M/s1600/please+give.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/TLdBEaj7oxI/AAAAAAAAAdA/pgkAr04pA3M/s320/please+give.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527958611725886226" border="0" /></a><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">I watched writer-director Nicole Holofcener's <span style="font-style: italic;">Please Give</span> a couple of weeks back and since then I’ve been thinking of writing this post. This is sort of a ‘what-this-movie-is-about-and-why-does-it-make-me-write-this-post’ post. It is a story about a well heeled present day New York couple, Kate and Alex (Catherine Keener and Oliver Platt).<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">In this era of really complex storytelling, Please Give is one of those films where nothing much happens. It is too self-indulgent, full of dialogues and follows linear storytelling. But it is as charming as life is, warts and all. It’s got its selfish, guilty, passionate and morbid moments.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">It is set in present day New York. But it could have been a story of any metropolis in any part of the world. It is so much our story. We, the children of the new world, who make more money than all the family members of our previous generation combined . We, who are fighting this daily fight of being part of this dog-eat-dog world and yet want to believe that somewhere we are good people. I don’t think anybody likes to believe himself or herself as a bad person. We all got reasons to justify any shit we do in life.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Kate and Alex run a business selling overpriced retro furniture to upper class hip people of the city. Furniture which they buy as scrap from the unsuspecting people selling off their dead parents ‘useless stuff’ and hoping to make some money in the bargain.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">The business is doing fine, swindling off people of their priceless furniture. But then again, Kate is saddled with this desire to do something good. Maybe she’s saddled with her guilt of bilking people and wants to redeem herself. So she hands out generous dollars to the homeless in the street. But at the same time, she wishes the next door old lady dead, so that she can buy her apartment and combine it with hers. Kate’s character likes to believe that the old lady lived a sad life, no matter if she actually did. But she needs to believe so, maybe to feel good about her own life. She needs to do something to feel good about herself. She doles out 20 dollars to a homeless but denies her teenaged daughter a 200 dollar pair of denims. Because somewhere she likes to believe she is middle class, rooted to the downtrodden. Even Nita Ambani and Shahrukh Khan like to indulge themselves in that belief, no matter what obscene depths of money they are in. There has to be a redemption about being the way you are. Sounds familiar, isn’t it? It does to me.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">I loved Please Give because it is such a comment on how our heart is. How we really are and how we like to believe we are. Clueless but clued in. Selfish and generous. All that makes us human. It is in the same school as a Woody Allen film. Or a Satyajit Ray, or a Ritoporno Ghosh, or a Dibakar Banerjee film.( I know, somewhere some bengali is rubbing his palms, grinning, that all the references are of bong directors…hehehe). All the directors and storytellers adept at dwelling into the finer nuances of human mind and heart.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Ok, coming back to the film, Nicole Holofcener writes strong women characters. And she manages to take out some brilliant performances out of her actors, specially the female characters. Even in this film all actors, especially the women, outshine their male counterparts. Whether it is Kate’s gawky 15 year old daughter Abby (Sarah Steele), or the controlled radiologist Rebecca (Rebecca Hall) and spa attendant Mary (Amanda Peet) – or their ailing and sharp-tongued grandmother (Ann Guilbert). But the one who really is most amazing is Catherine Keener as Kate. I must confess that I never much liked her, unlike Priti who forever did. In fact, i almost hated her. That’s maybe because I always saw her enacting these very strong women characters. But I saw her as the mother in Where The Wild Things Are, and now in Please Give, both parts where she is vulnerable and yet strong. And I have to confess that I am in love with her. Maybe that’s how all love stories begin. With a certain dislike and resistance towards a potent force and then a complete surrender.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Please Give is kind of movie which is critical of us but at the same time is sympathetic to us. All it’s doing is showing us that what we really are. Human, with all our flaws and shortcomings, far from the idealist picture of this righteous person we carry in our heads.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" >So if you can lay your hands on it, please watch Please Give. </span><span style=""> </span></span></p>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-21651215578111007802010-07-30T21:17:00.000-07:002010-07-30T21:21:39.641-07:00So Long...<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There’s something about leaving, which is always hard. Parting with things, places and people is harder than you imagine. And then it is harder if you have a filmy mind like me. You imagine events in a certain way in your head and it never turns out that way. Real life so doesn’t imitate reel life, for sure. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Last week I said goodbyes twice. First to Calcutta, and then to Ogilvy. Strangely with Calcutta, it wasn’t so hard. Every time I go there, a certain sense of detachment sets in. </span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And that’s because of the political scenario which just doesn’t let the city move. Out of the 5 days I was there, one day the city was crippled thanks to Mamata Banerjee’s Maha Rally, the other day there was Cab strike. So it wasn’t exactly a dream run in Calcutta. So saying bye to my people was harsh, but not so much to the city. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And then my bbye moment to Ogilvy. It was harder than I thought. I just hung on to it. I just wanted to be and not leave. I wanted to have my friends gather around and talk, maybe go out drinking. But then with everybody gone before me, there was no one around to do that with. So I hung on to studio and client servicing people I have never spoken and said my bbyes for ages, hoping someone would walk me out. Because that’s the way the reel rolls in my head. But thank god to Nitin and Jossy. It was nice talking to Nitin. Thanks for the gift. And Thanks so much to Jossy for the book. Very well thought of. And I loved what he wrote on the inside page. May your wish for me come true, because that’s my wish too. So I staggered out of the agency alone, and no matter how much you tell yourself to be a man and not cry, your eyes do well up. I have spent close to 3 years in this agency, known some wonderful people, made friends with some, goddamn!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">So anyway, both my bbyes weren’t exactly the way I imagined. Maybe I should start dreaming those morbid NFDC type movies of 70s where nothing great happens through the movie, the jholawala union leader gets killed, people die of hunger and in the last shot the sun sets behind the fume belching industrial backdrop, leaving the screen dark. But maybe I’ll not. Why screw the vision of the head. It’s a wonderful world in there. Atleast things are perfect in there. So I’ll keep dreaming in Technicolour. </span><br /><br /></span>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-52032504289870279082010-03-21T01:50:00.000-07:002010-03-21T22:49:07.829-07:00Love, Sex aur Dhokha, darling!<span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///E:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Verdana; 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mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:11pt;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/S6XgNdSbzsI/AAAAAAAAAao/pUjK1TcFCJ4/s1600-h/love_sex_aur_dhokha_01_10x7_30277_420x315.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/S6XgNdSbzsI/AAAAAAAAAao/pUjK1TcFCJ4/s320/love_sex_aur_dhokha_01_10x7_30277_420x315.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451009445806722754" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style=";"><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">“</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">And you call </span></span><i style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">t</span></span></i></span></span></span></span><span><span style=";"><i style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">his</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> a film!?”</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style=";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">That’s how one of the 3 young women sitting next to us reacted when the end credits of </span></span><b style=""><i style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Love, Sex Aur Dhokha</span></span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> started rolling. Not that they were quiet through the film, like most of the other viewers. Like this man in the row in front of us complained during a brutal scene of honour killing ‘kya film hai yeh?. He even asked his wife to remove the food-tray in front of him, citi</span></span></span></span><span><span style=";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">ng ‘mann khatta ho </span></span><st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">gaya</span></span></st1:place></st1:city></span></span><span><span style=";"><st1:city st="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><st1:place st="on"></st1:place></span></span></st1:city><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">.’</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style=";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">What were you expecting, bade</span></span></span></span><span><span style=";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> bhaiya? Pro</span></span></span></span><span><span style=";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">bably a movie with some ‘scenes’. Before he bought his popcorn, he could have done a little homework on the film. But I guess that is too much to expect out of people, the whole thing about expectations out of a film, that is. People just float in, expecting to watch a film which is already there in their head. A film just the way they are used to seeing, a three act narrative of the beginning, the middle and the end. Nowadays, most have opened up to the idea of ‘different’ films as well. But LSD is nothing like you expected. You don’t have a clue of what’s coming. LSD fucks you. In the ass.</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style=";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">With so much voyeurism and reality TV happening around us, somebody had to make a film on it. And thank God, it wasn’t Madhur Bhandarkar.</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style=";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">LSD doesn’t follow a pattern of single story with the beginning, middle and the end. It uses three different stories of love, sex and betrayal to give you one composite film experience. A film which has no lose ends, all of them tied together tightly with one another. Long back when I was in college, I’d watched a film called ‘The Idiots’ in a film festival. I had no clue about the director Lars Von Trier or Dogme films, but I was pretty moved by the film. There was a certain naivety, and a certain devilish morbidity to it. It was heartbreaking to watch that film. As was many of Lars Von Trier’s films I later watched. I had the same reaction watching LSD. It slaps you across your face throughout. It is not exactly funny when you think it is. It is moving to see how mundane people are, and yet how devilish they can be. People do the most horrible things to people they love, or let’s just say to people who are their own.</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style=";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The first story follows an Aditya Chopra school of film making obsessed young guy Rahul (Anshuman Jha) making his diploma film, who has the same idea about love as depicted in his mentor’s films. Now you can laugh saying this guy is unreal, but believe me this guy is real. They are all around us. There are so many like him, my brother in law is one such guy, with his motley crew of FB friends who sound just like him. So the hero falls for his film’s heroine, a rich girl Shruti (Shruti) with a fleet of Mercs and her Punjabi Baroque house. The second story is about Adarsh (Raj Kumar Yadav) and Rashmi (Neha Chauhan) in a 24×7 departmental store, always under CCTV surveillance. The third is about a sting operator journalist Prabhat (Amit Sial) who carries out an operation with frustrated model Naina (Devdutta Banerjee), who is out to avenge being ditched by famous Punjabi pop star Loki Local (Herry Tangri). All mundane people, like you and me. Feeding off each other like parasites. Clinging on to each other for love, giving in to sex, and tied with a common thread of betrayal.</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style=";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Most film-makers have a brilliant debut film and there after start corrupting, giving into the pressures of banners and box office. Or simply because they don’t have any good story to tell. So the treatment takes over the content. Not the case with Dibakar Banerjee, he debuted with the brilliant Khosla ka ghosla, followed it with an even sharper Oye Lucky! And now has surpassed all his brilliance with his most caustic film. He is a director in command of his craft. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style=";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style=";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The screenplay by Urmi Juvekar and Dibakar Banerjee is gripping. The camera work by Nikos Andritsakis is absolutely brillaint. As Dibakar said in his interview that this is the first time in </span></span><st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">India</span></span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> that the digital cameras are used as digital cameras, and not as a poor cousin of the 35 mm camera. Editing by Namrata Rao is crisp. You must listen to the music album, if you are not already hooked on. I’m in love with Sneha Khanwalker's music, she is absolutely charming in this one as well. The lyrics written by Dibakar himself, are sharply written and topical. Lyrics like ‘main saat janam upwasa hoon, aur saat samandar pyasa hoon’ are absolute gem. The cast is brilliant, all the actors including the guy playing Shruti’s father and the other cocky store attendant have done their bit effortlessly.</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style=";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">It has more heart and soul than a lot of things I have seen, read or watched. The last time I was this moved watching a hindi film was Maqbool. After watching LSD, I wanted to go sit alone somewhere. Say nothing. Light a cigarette. Maybe shed a tear or two.</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style=";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Priti and I end up watching films back to back in halls. Even today we had bought tickets for LSD and </span></span><st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Lahore</span></span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">, of which we had read and heard good things only. But after watching LSD I felt like tearing away the tickets of </span></span><st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Lahore</span></span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">. But that would be an insult to the very reason a film is made. To be watched. So I didn’t do it. I wish I had.</span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-47286769100956103572009-12-31T05:04:00.000-08:002009-12-31T07:59:41.116-08:00Viva America<span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ><strong><em>People are celebrating halloween in india now...waiting for the day we'll have 4th of July fireworks. Viva Ameerika!</em></strong><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >That's what my FB status message read around last Halloween. Some of my friends reacted quite sharply to it, labelling me as no-fun and an anti-American. Now i take serious offence to that. Not the no-fun part. I largely agree to being a no-fun boring kind of a guy. But i have serious reservartions against being labelled an anti-American. Because i love America. I’ve never been to America, but I have this genuine love for some things American, not all, but most. I love America as I know it, these images I get of America through Hollywood, media, American sitcoms, music and popular culture.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >I love films, and you cannot love cinema and be oblivious to Hollywood. Hollywood of 70s (which I only saw later), 80s and 90s played a huge part in discovering my love for cinema. Well most of Hollywood fare is utter crap but then there are some gems every now and then. I love American sitcoms, they’ve got more easy humour than British ones. I love the Stand up comedians. I love the whole idea of New York. I want to spend at least 6 months of my life there. Soak up on all the urban ‘culture’. Watch Musicals (they are unarguably the best in the world), visit pubs and listen to underground bands, jazz acts, stand ups video artists. Be part of The Central Park and the Times Square of hurried, smug people. Of warm and clipped smiles. Be part of the cosmopolitan jamboree that New York is. </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ><br />How can I love a place without ever being there? Well, I haven’t met Madhuri Dixit also, but boy, don’t even get me started on how much I love her. Yes, even now.<br /><br />One can always divide oneself into being a hindu or a muslim, gujarati or a Bengali, south Indian or a northeasterner and then there’s this whole thing about being a world citizen. But I believe after being an Indian, more than anything else, we are American. The urban Indian life imitates American lifestyle. And it is true for most of the countries around the world. We are bombarded by everything American (some of them excellent, some good and some bad). You switch on the TV and the sitcoms you love are all American, the music you mostly like is American, so is the fast food you so love, the language you pass off as English is American. For a country colonised by brits for over 200 years, we are more American than we are British. We drop our easy on tongue American and put on our best Liverpudlian accent only to sound exotic. You go to “fookin hell” or "let’s rob sum ciggies fellas" only when you want to sound different.<br /><br />We have the same kind of family values and melodramatic ideas about patriotism and social behaviour. Are homophobic, and have closeted ideas about sexuality as Americans do. Only they being a ‘first world country’ and us being ‘third world country’, there are differences in how we approach them, but the basic structure of society is the same. Being American makes us feel at home. Gives us a sense of belonging. For example, sometime back a couple of my friends were traveling through Cambodia and Vietnam. They were sick of eating ‘exotic’ asian food and then they saw a McDonalds and they immediately felt ‘at home’. That’s how American we are.<br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ></span>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-36528256438074130432009-09-09T03:06:00.000-07:002009-09-09T08:25:40.835-07:00You Know You Are a Nepali When.....<span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Ok, this is just for the kick of it. Thanks dipendra for sending it, i added some too. I waited for you to add some of yours, but </span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">I couldn't wait to post it</span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">(you can always add some). So here it goes...<br /><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">- You look up when you hear an airplane.<br /><br />- You point with your lips.<br /><br />- Whenever you meet someone you ask, “bhaath khaayao? ("Have you had your food?" )<br /><br />- You meet someone in a movie hall and ask, "cinema herna aayeko?” (Here to watch a movie?”)<br /><br />- You call all action movies " action pack!!!!"<br /><br />- You know the three Ds of partying. i.e - dance, drink and dangdung (fist/khukuri fight).<br /><br />- You think all festivals mean relatives playing cards and getting drunk.<br /><br /></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="Apple-style-span">- You cannot drink without chicken chilly and momos.<br /><br />- You think </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="Apple-style-span">chilly </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="Apple-style-span">chicken and momo are nepali food.<br /><br />- You are crossing a one way street and you have to check both sides. (debre ani daine)<br /><br />- You get annoyed when people think you are from Nepal.<br /><br />- Your relatives give you money whenever you visit them. ( even when you are 40)<br /><br />- You sing or atleast hum “Ghaam paani, ghaam paani…” everytime it drizzles while the sun’s still shining. ( even when you are 80)<br /><br />- When you see a pair of slippers upside down (ulta chappal) you have to turn it around.<br /><br />- You don't cut your nails at night. (Lest the devil take you and your family)<br /><br />- You feel you haven’t eaten if you haven’t had Bhaath (rice).<br /><br />- You are not allowed to hum or sing while eating.<br /><br />- You laugh at everything on Nepali TV but you still watch it.<br /><br />- You dont know that the buff you have been eating is actually short for buffalo.<br /><br />- You have been dragged to a mandir on saraswati puja so that you will get good grades.<br /><br />- You are afraid to step on any paper, or pen (You don't want to piss off Saraswati and flunk an exam).<br /><br />- Your grandmum doesnt let you whistle at night.<br /><br />- You can’t date someone if you are not in love.<br /><br />- You Know who Humjayaga is.<br /><br />- You watch Korean movie and try to act like you’re in one.<br /><br />- You miss those mountains you used to see the moment you opened your eyes in the morning.<br /><br />- You go out for lunch/ dinner/ whatever in a group and look at the menu for half an hour and order:<br />1. momo<br />2. chowmein<br />3. fried rice<br />4. chilly </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="Apple-style-span">chicken</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="Apple-style-span"><br />- You think of titaura and your saliva glands go wild!!<br /><br />- You miss wai wai ,churpi and tituara almost any given day.<br /><br />- You are good at drunk driving, especially if it's bad mountain roads.<br /><br />- Your conversation with any Nepali you just met always ends up being an interview to unearth the degree of association with this person. (eh...Ghar ka?? gangtok? Tyeso bhaye timi xyz lai chinchhau??)<br /> - 90% of the time you end up knowing someone who knows someone who knows the person.<br /> - The remaining 10% of the time the person is your relative.<br /><br />- You think cats are evil.<br /><br />- You feel obligated to pay for everyone else when eating out with your friends.<br /><br /></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="Apple-style-span">- Your non-nepali friends </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="Apple-style-span">in primary school earnestly asked you if you know karate and if you ate cockroaches for dinner.</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="Apple-style-span"><br /><br /></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="Apple-style-span">- Your American friends </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="Apple-style-span">ask you if you have climbed mount Everest</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: verdana;" class="Apple-style-span">.<br /><br />- You probably haven't even seen mount Everest.<br /><br />- Your favorite Hollywood actress used to be Phoebe Cates<br /><br />- You pronounce Phoebe Cates as "fobee cyats"<br /><br />- You love the pungent, fermented smell of pickled bamboo shoots (tama) and dried and aged vegetable leaves (gundruk) + you are drooling at the thought right now.</span><br /></span></span></span></div>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-64074065942500799302009-09-01T07:26:00.000-07:002009-09-05T00:00:41.584-07:00My Favourite Dialogues<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Owing to overwhelming pressure from the ardent followers of this blog, I am compelled to write this post. Ah, wishful thinking!!! Ok, now that I’m done indulging myself, let me tell the real reason to write this post. Some days back a couple of my colleagues were discussing some film dialogue, and I knew this post was long due. So here goes my list of favourite dialogues, of course the ones that I remember at the moment. Some of them are not even spoken dialogues but voiceover, but what the heck! And please do add your favourite/s.<br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">The Thin Red Line<br /></span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>(VO)What's this war in the heart of nature ?<br />Why does nature vie with itself?.<br />The land contend with the sea?<br />ls there an avenging power in nature?<br />Not one power, but two?<br /></strong><br />A very powerful opening shot which sets the tone of the film.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><strong>Adaptation</strong></span> <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>John Laroche: Point is, what's so wonderful is that every one of these flowers has a specific relationship with the insect that pollinates it. There's a certain orchid look exactly like a certain insect so the insect is drawn to this flower, its double, its soul mate, and wants nothing more than to make love to it. And after the insect flies off, spots another soul-mate flower and makes love to it, thus pollinating it. And neither the flower nor the insect will ever understand the significance of their lovemaking. I mean, how could they know that because of their little dance the world lives? But it does. By simply doing what they're designed to do, something large and magnificent happens. In this sense they show us how to live -- how the only barometer you have is your heart. How, when you spot your flower, you can't let anything get in your way.<br /></strong><br />So lucid, so beautiful. Charlie Kauffman is a genius of geniuses.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">Taxi Driver</span><br /><br /></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Travis Bickle: You talkin' to me?</strong><br /><br />One line which became part of modern pop culture. Travis Bickle. The most flawed superhero of all times, and Robert DeNiro, the boss, the god! The combination couldn’t have been any more smouldering.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">Full Metal Jacket<br /><br /></span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Private Joker: A day without blood is like a day without sunshine.<br /><br />Private Joker: I wanted to see exotic Vietnam... the crown jewel of Southeast Asia. I wanted to meet interesting and stimulating people of an ancient culture... and kill them. I wanted to be the first kid on my block to get a confirmed kill!<br /><br />Crazy Earl: These are great days we're living, bros. We are jolly green giants, walking the Earth with guns. These people we wasted here today are the finest human beings we will ever know. After we rotate back to the world, we're gonna miss not having anyone around that's worth shooting.<br /></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Each of the cold-blooded dialogues are a testament to the horror of the war. Each dialogue a smack on the face, a kick in the gut.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">Maine Pyar Kiya<br /><br /></span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Jeevan: Ek ladka-ladki kabhi dost nahi hotey. yeh toh ek pardaa hai pardaa, kapkapaati raaton me, dhadakte huye dilon ki bhadakti hui aag ko bujhaneka, chhupaneka.<br /></strong><br />Long before he turned it into a mass movement, Ram Sene chief sat down in a dingy room and wrote those historic lines. A true lesson in Indian sanskaar, this.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><strong>Maachis</strong></span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Kuldeep: Jab who namaaz padhti thi toh dil karta tha ki mussalman ban jaaun.<br /></strong><br />When you think you’ll heard and read every possible way to say I am in love, Gulzar goes ahead and writes something and you go, ‘wow’!<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">Waqt<br /></span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Yeh bacchhon ke khelne ki cheez nahi, haath kat jaaye toh khoon nikal aata hai.<br /></strong><br />Long before I cared to notice that Raj Kumar was not exactly a great actor, I was floored by his style. Ok, it was a rub-off of my elder brother idolizing him, and I was only idolizing my elder brother by following his likes and dislikes. But Raj Kumar surely had style. <br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">Trainspotting<br /></span></strong><br /><strong>Renton: So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers, all false. The truth is that I'm a bad person, but that's going to change, I'm going to change. This is the last of this sort of thing. I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on, going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm going to be just like you: the job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing machine, the car, the compact disc and electrical tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisurewear, luggage, three-piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing the gutters, getting by, looking ahead, to the day you die.<br /></strong> </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">Andaaz Apna Apna</span><br /><br /></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Gogo: Crime-Master Gogo naam hai mera. Aankhen Nikal ke Gotiyan Kheloonga, gotiyaan.<br /></strong><br />Juvenile and over-the-top it is, but I laugh my head off every time I watch this film and every time I hear this dialogue. And I do watch it every time it’s on TV.<br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">Oldboy</span><br /><br /></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Oh Dae-su: If you stand aimlessly at a phone booth on a rainy day, and meet a man whose face is covered by a violet umbrella, I'd suggest that you get close to the TV.</strong><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Without the context the dialogue might not seem as important, but it holds the key to the plot. It is almost funny but heartbreakingly so.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><strong>Gunda<br /><br /></strong></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><strong></strong></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Bulla: Mera naam hai Bulla, rakhta hoon main hamesha khulla!<br /><br /></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">You may not have heard of Kanti Shah and his contribution to Indian cinema. He is not your regular V. Shantaram, Gurudutt, Raj Kapoor or even Manmohan Desia, Farah Khan or Vishal Bhardwaj. He is not the ‘face’ of Indian cinema, but the smelly ass of it, which most of you hoity-toity people so snobbishly turn your nose up at. But Kanti Shah and his film are, without doubt pure genius, and Gunda his crowning jewel!! As mithun Da would say, “Koi Shaq”!!<br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">As good as it gets<br /><br /></span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Melvin Udall: You make me want to be a better man.<br /></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I know it’s soppy. But rolling off Jack Nicholson’s caustic tongue, it’s something else.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><strong>Reservoir Dogs<br /><br /></strong></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><strong></strong></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Brown: Let me tell you what 'Like a Virgin' is about. It's all about a girl who digs a guy with a big dick. The entire song. It's a metaphor for big dicks. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Blonde: No, no. It's about a girl who is very vulnerable. She's been fucked over a few times. Then she meets some guy who's really sensitive... </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Brown: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa... Time out Greenbay. Tell that fucking bullshit to the tourists. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Joe: Toby... Who the fuck is Toby? Toby... </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Brown: 'Like a Virgin' is not about this sensitive girl who meets a nice fella. That's what "True Blue" is about, now, granted, no argument about that. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Orange: Which one is 'True Blue'? Nice Guy Eddie: 'True Blue' was a big ass hit for Madonna. I don't even follow this Tops In Pops shit, and I've at least heard of "True Blue". </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Orange: Look, asshole, I didn't say I ain't heard of it. All I asked was how does it go? Excuse me for not being the world's biggest Madonna fan. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Blonde: Personally, I can do without her. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Blue: I like her early stuff. You know, 'Lucky Star', 'Borderline' - but once she got into her 'Papa Don't Preach' phase, I don't know, I tuned out. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Brown: Hey, you guys are making me lose my... train of thought here. I was saying something, what was it? </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Joe: Oh, Toby was this Chinese girl, what was her last name? </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. White: What's that? </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Joe: I found this old address book in a jacket I ain't worn in a coon's age. What was that name? </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Brown: What the fuck was I talking about? </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Pink: You said 'True Blue' was about a nice girl, a sensitive girl who meets a nice guy, and that 'Like a Virgin' was a metaphor for big dicks. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Brown: Lemme tell you what 'Like a Virgin' is about. It's all about this cooze who's a regular fuck machine, I'm talking morning, day, night, afternoon, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Blue: How many dicks is that? Mr. White: A lot. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Brown: Then one day she meets this John Holmes motherfucker and it's like, whoa baby, I mean this cat is like Charles Bronson in the 'Great Escape', he's digging tunnels. Now, she's gettin' the serious dick action and she's feeling something she ain't felt since forever. Pain. Pain. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Joe: Chew? Toby Chew? </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Mr. Brown: It hurts her. It shouldn't hurt her, you know, her pussy should be Bubble Yum by now, but when this cat fucks her it hurts. It hurts just like it did the first time. You see the pain is reminding a fuck machine what it once was like to be a virgin. Hence, 'Like a Virgin'.<br /></strong><br />Just a bunch of crooks rambling away to each other, but there’s so much more happening there in the conversation. A riveting scene from the master of long-winding dialogues.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">Kill Bill Vol II<br /><br /></span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Bill: A staple of the superhero mythology is there's the superhero and there's the alter ego. Batman is actually Bruce Wayne, Spider-Man is actually Peter Parker. When that character wakes up in the morning, he's Peter Parker. He has to put on a costume to become Spider-Man. And it is in that characteristic Superman stands alone. Superman didn't become Superman. Superman was born Superman. When Superman wakes up in the morning, he's Superman. His alter ego is Clark Kent....What Kent wears - the glasses, the business suit, that's the costume. That's the costume Superman wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us. And what are the characteristics of Clark Kent? He's weak, he's unsure of himself, he's a coward. Clark Kent is Superman's critique on the whole human race.<br /></strong><br />Another piece of classic Tarantino. The dialogue is self-explanatory, I needn’t add more.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">Meghe Dhaka Tara(Cloud-capped star)<br /><br /></span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Neeta: Dada, ami baachte chai (Brother, I want to live)</strong><br /><br />Ok, I am a big sucker for melodrama. But I cannot imagine a single soul who will not be stirred by this scene and this dialogue. It is brilliantly portrayed and is disturbingly heartbreaking. You have to watch it to know what I am talking about. In a confirmation of the popularity of Meghe Dhaka Tara, a recent survey by a leading Indian news group reported that this concluding line of the film was the most well-known line of any film.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">Agantuk(The Stranger)<br /><br /></span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Manmohan Mitra: Aami oder moton Bison aankte paarina( I cannot draw bison like them)<br /></strong><br />‘Them’ here refers to the people who drew animals in the ancient Altamira caves of Spain. Dialogues are often mirror to a character. And very rarely a director or writer’s work can capture a personality in just one sentence dialogue. Satyajit Ray was one man who could so wonderfully do it. In this one dialogue, he successfully captures the angst of a man who has seen it all, been there-done that, yet is aware how little it is compared to the genius of so called primitive cave-dwellers.<br /> </span>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-48724149900362879292009-08-24T20:26:00.000-07:002009-09-05T00:10:08.516-07:00So Fast So Furious<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">There’s something about being ‘fast’ that I think is over-rated. People are just way too obsessed with being fast, aggressive. Fast city, fast car, fast technology, fast person, everything and everyone ‘fast’ is to be revered, feared or respected. The Go-getters. The Winners. You got to have it all, and have it now. I mean, everywhere you go, anything you do, we want our things NOW. Instant gratification is the order of the day. Age, wisdom are passé. Something to be sniggered at. No wonder, we have so many 18 year olds hanging around in agencies who know absolutely nothing about advertising (And at their age, they are not expected to know anything about it), but man, they are smug. When you know nothing, to have a little bit of humility doesn’t hurt but then like I said, humility is passé. I wonder what these kids are drunk on. Ignorance, I guess. Because the less you know, the more you are not afraid of what you don’t. And if you are ever confronted with something you don’t know, you can always google. <br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">People are so obsessed with getting and doing things so fast that it is mind-boggling. I mean, we got our ATM machines, and we get hopping mad if the guy in front of us takes more than 3 minutes for his transaction. We cannot wait to get in or out of a cinema hall or an airplane, as if elbowing out other people will fetch you better seats. Sheehij sent me this <a href="http://www.maniacworld.com/everything-is-amazing-nobody-is-happy.html">video</a> and that’s when I thought of writing this post, because I so believe in what this bloke, Louis CK, An American Stand Up, Actor, Writer, Producer, Director says. We’ve come such a long way in getting things so fast at our disposal that we don’t value what we have. We are so dependent on the machine that the moment it falters even for a second, our world comes crashing down. People don’t have such expectations from fellow people. You’d be still okay with your girlfriend coming an hour late for your date, but god if your ATM machine fucks on you for a moment, you’d be cursing like crazy, like it owes you something. I have forever hated the way people think they have absolutely all the fucking right in the world to talk crap about the ‘aunty’ airhostesses of Air India. About how rude they are and how unattractive and old they are. You know what??! You are rude. Give her a fucking break. She’s your hostess, not your slave! And it is only a 2 hour journey. Your own mom or wife wouldn’t come running to you if you ring that bell so many times in 2 hours.<br /><br />And this apathy and intolerance doesn’t just restrict to machines. People are critical of anybody who’s not ‘fast’. There’s something really malicious about the way one is treated if you don’t fit into their scheme of things in terms of what’s fast and what’s not. I have been a part of such maliciousness too. And more often than not I’ve been told that I talk to much, think a lot more than that. That I am not aggressive enough. That I am a drifter, not a go-getter. Too old. Too fat. Not FAST. Well, heck, I am not! And I used to be quite troubled by it. I wanted to be like the ‘fast’ friends I have. I wanted to be them. But I can’t. Because it’s not me. I don’t believe in self-help books, but one day somebody told me I’ll forever be like this, because it is me. And the day I develop a sense of humour about it, I’ll be a happy man. That was awesome advice. Now I try not to be so apologetic about who and what I am. Everyday I struggle with it. Every day, my jokes are on myself. A sense of humour is a wonderful thing. It’s helped me a lot.<br /><br />I am not your quintessential winner guy, but I am learning to be happy with what I am. To sum it up, I’ll use a quote from Jerry Maguire, <em>“I don't have all the answers. In life, to be honest, I failed as much as I have succeeded. But I love my wife. I love my life. And I wish you my kind of success.”</em> No, thanks??</span>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-84298001023579435652009-08-14T19:18:00.000-07:002009-09-05T00:00:54.900-07:00Fuch Feriouf Fun!<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SoYbjBeSSHI/AAAAAAAAAWc/xc7HoSSiBj0/s1600-h/kaminey.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370009894190729330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 554px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SoYbjBeSSHI/AAAAAAAAAWc/xc7HoSSiBj0/s320/kaminey.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br />Identical twins have been one of the formulas long used in Bollywood. But to take a cliché and to treat it in a way that it becomes a ‘genre’ film, now that’s quite an achievement. And that’s what Vishal Bhardwaj has done. Again! Much like the Koreans, who take a subject like revenge and create masterpieces out of it.<br /><br />So there it is, a film about the good and the evil . And everything in between. A movie about love and deceit. About cultural differences and geographical divides. About crooks and gangsters, about freaks and opportunists. About characters with opposite beliefs but intertwined fates. About very little white and a little black, and a lot of grey.<br /><br />The good being Guddu, a stammering NGO worker and the bad, Charlie, his identical twin, <em>jo ‘Fa’ ko “Fa’ bolta hai.</em> They both want to make it big in their life, they both have goals set for themselves. But the similarities end just there. They are as different as it can get. Guddu is an honest NGO worker, while Charlie is a small-time race course better. Both have and want nothing to do with each other but their fates collide and they end up in a situation where they only have each other to survive. What follows then is a rollercoaster ride that ends in an explosive climax. One of the best climaxes I have seen in the recent times.<br /><br />Really good and convincing casting has been forever a strong point of Vishal Bhardwaj’s films. Kaminey keeps up with this trend. Shahid has portrayed both roles very effectively, but call it my bias or a problem, I look at him on the screen and just can’t help wondering ‘oh, he looks so much younger than anybody and everybody around him, younger than his heroine and even fresh faced Mikhail (brilliantly portrayed by Chandan Roy Sanyal). Priyanka Chopra is very believable as a marathi mulgi (Vishal bhardwaj supposedly had to woo Priyanka to do this role. Well, she should call him up every day and thank him.) Amol Gupte is so entertaining as a manipulative crook cum aspiring politician. The verbal duel between his character Bhope Bhau and Mikhail, played by Chandan is one of the best moments of this film. The others in the cast are very apt and nicely portrayed.<br /><br />In keeping with the dark theme of the film, the sun hardly ever rises in Kaminey. Throughout the film, it is dark, muggy and brooding. The editing is top notch so is the camera work. But at times, the keep-the-camera-roving-all-over-the-place gets a bit too much. I know, that’s exactly what the intention was, in keeping with the delirious sequences, but then still it gets way too disorienting at times. The dialogues are crisp. Vishal and Gulzar have forever made brilliant music together, Kaminey is no exception. It’s a shame that hardly anyone else uses a gem like Suresh Wadekar.<br /><br />Vishal Bhardwaj is a master of linear storytelling, he’s portrayed that in all his previous films. He forever has had really good material, whether it is adapting Shakesperean plays or a Ruskin bond story. But in Kaminey, there’s a shift from his style and is much ‘Tarantinosque’, if I may use the term. So yeah, it is no Maqbool, it is not even Omkara. But Kaminey is a great watch nonetheless. It might not be Vishal’s the best film, but whatever anybody else does, he does it so much better. He is arguably the best we have in the Bombay Film Industry and perhaps one of the best in the world. </span>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-8325617558328026322009-07-04T23:44:00.000-07:002009-09-05T00:01:02.961-07:00BANDHOBI<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SlBNCYd-TPI/AAAAAAAAAWM/2HXi2YMrYyM/s1600-h/bandhobi.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354864660266765554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 271px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 383px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SlBNCYd-TPI/AAAAAAAAAWM/2HXi2YMrYyM/s320/bandhobi.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I am generally interested in films and particularly interested in Korean films. I think they are amongst the best film-making nations. I regularly keep track of what’s happening in the Korean film-world and on my last such reading session, I came across a very interesting film which has just released in Korea. It is called <strong>Bandhobi</strong>. Now Bandhobi is not exactly a Korean term but a Bengali term meaning <em>‘female friend’</em>. From what I read about it, it is quite an interesting film. <em>It’s a story about growing pains and the meeting point of different cultures</em> says the review I read. A story about a Korean Teenaged girl and an illegal Bangladeshi immigrant who have to team up due to some circumstances. Teenage actress Bae Jin-hui portrays the cheeky 17-year-old Min-seo, while Mahbub Alam, who, I read is a migrant worker-turned-documentary filmmaker (which in itself, is so interesting) plays Karim, who is what else, but an illegal immigrant in Korea.<br /><br />Korea has a HUGE western hangover, much like the rest of Asia. In some ways, more so, than the rest of the Asia. Even when we are geographically closer to Korea, they have much more affinity to the west. More often than not, Hollywood films are bigger grossers than the home grown movies. So they often end up making films which has western characters or setting. The very bad but hugely successful D-War is a case in point. But Bandhobi is a totally different ballgame; one of its protagonists doesn’t come from the west but from an ‘undesirable’ country like Bangladesh. The director of this ‘crude socio-political satire’, Shin Dong-il is already hailed as Korea’s Woody Allen, thanks to his previous films.<br /></span><div><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">This movie promises to be an exciting ride. One which will be quite new and refreshing, as it comes from a society we don’t much know about. One which and I quote from the original review, the <em>“director Shin Dong-il translates to screen “uncomfortable” issues of illegal immigration, racism and social toadyism through the universal languages of ticklish humor, teenage angst and priceless friendship.”<br /></em></div></span><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I can’t wait to lay my hands on the movie.</span></div></div>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-23053994202053924782009-06-26T05:32:00.000-07:002009-09-05T00:20:51.071-07:00The 'BAD' is gone<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SkTAMTgqlBI/AAAAAAAAAV8/3utn953XFio/s1600-h/jacko.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351613574851236882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 319px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SkTAMTgqlBI/AAAAAAAAAV8/3utn953XFio/s320/jacko.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The self-proclaimed King of Pop is dead. Not that we ever disagreed about the ‘The Greatest’ being the ‘King of Pop’. And pomp. He was unarguably the greatest showman on earth, and the greatest entertainer of our time. Of all times.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I heard him as a kid first. Saw him is more like it. In our good ol’ doordarshan days, when the western music on the tube was so far and in between, MJ was a rage. I understood nothing of what he was singing. I think, none of my friends did. But what made him special was his presentation. He was one helluva performer. I never was much of a dancer. But I had this next door neighbour who moonwalked into so many young girls' heart with his crotch-grabbing, body-contorting, kicking-the-air MJ style breakdance. At that age, it never occurred to me what a gifted singer and sogwriter he was. Only later I discovered his singing, the ones he did alone and the ones he did as one of, and arguably the most talented of the Jackson 5. And what a delight he was!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Later, when I grew up to more music and different genres, MJ and his music took a backseat. But whatever he did, music or otherwise, never failed to surprise us. Whether it is his music, or Peter-pan acts, or other more serious allegations, ‘Wacko Jacko’ always stayed in news.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It's very very weird to hear about his death. I mean, someone like him doesn't just 'die'. He was 'different', to say the least. I really don't mean it mockingly, but i seriously think that someone like him doesn't die. With MJ, you expect an alien ship to come and take him to the mothership, when he decides to depart. Or he disappearing mysteriously somehow, only to be 'sighted' by fans, even after 100 years later. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I don’t quite remember where was it that I first saw his number, what age was I. But I am sure we will all remember where were we, what exactly were we doing when we heard the news of his death. That’s the legend MJ is!</span><br /></p>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-61021968758920621412009-05-07T10:46:00.000-07:002009-09-05T00:12:17.484-07:00Poll Sell<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">There was a time when the walls in Calcutta were plastered with posters and graffiti endorsing political parties, once the poll frenzy began. Thanks to Court's order, that has been curtailed, well almost. But the political parties have found out more sophisticated ways to advertise themselves, which is what else but hiring advertising agencies. So now you have TVCs, press, outdoor, web advertising, the entire works done by leading agencies of the country for political parties And that, is something I am so afraid of. I work in advertising and I do my bit of selling aerated drinks when you actually should be having water. And I have designed cigarette packs and glamourised a life-threatening thing initially in my career. So yes, I am guilty of it all. But I believe, endorsing a political party and its people are a different ballgame altogether. And I am glad I am not in an agency which endorses them. Because I know, I will not do it, just like I will not work on cigarette brands. EVER.<br /><br />How can we endorse criminals, mass murderers, people who have orchestrated hate crimes and genocide against a section of people or a particular community? How can we advertise them! Glorify them! And more so when we might not believe in a particular party’s ideology (if it has any). I am glad I am not part of the team which sits down and ideates on how to ‘sell’ a politician to masses. A politician, who might have criminal cases pending against him, or has led an armed mob to maul a particular community, or has twisted the system’s arm to facilitate genocide against a particular community.<br /><br />But then I am an advertising guy and my job is to sell things. Only thing I can try doing is sell a product which is honest. So here am me selling you a politician who has what it takes. Ok, on a serious note, we know that not all politicians are corrupt. There are people out there who are doing it to actually make a difference. One such person is Mr. Arun Bhatia, an ex IAS Officer who is contesting from Pune. An honest man of steely resolve who in his own word, “paid the price of denial of promotion, frequent transfers (26 transfers in as many years of service in India), numerous charges and enquiries, bad assessment reports, ridicule by peers, seniors and subordinates, lack of support when giant offenders like Glaxo or senior officers and politicians were prosecuted by me, ugly threats from the Bombay land mafia.” You can read more about the man (And I insist, you must) on his site, </span><a href="http://www.arunbhatiaelect.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">http://www.arunbhatiaelect.com/</span></a><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br />Delhi went to poll today. I could not vote as I am registered in Calcutta and I haven’t had it transferred to Delhi. The total turnout in Delhi was roughly 50%, while sometime back Bombay recorded a shameful 43%. I wonder what is it with people. People in Bombay had come out in full force a la Rang De Basanti to light candles after 26th November’s terrorist attack. Roughly 4 months later, the very people took the first train, bus or car out of Bombay on polling day, just to enjoy the long weekend. How sorry is that! As they say, a nation gets the government it deserves; I hope the 50% of you in Delhi who have voted kept that in mind while voting. </span>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-18183422143901149522009-02-21T22:55:00.000-08:002009-09-05T00:21:38.103-07:00Up, up and away, forever<div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Okay, another one of my ‘those who came really late’ stories. To my generation (people who were born in the 70s), TV was the biggest luxury. You know, the time when TVs were black and white and they came in this huge wooden box with shutters. The era of Doordarshan, when you waited for almost an entire minute for that doordarshan logo to unfold before a programme would start. Programmes, we would so eagerly wait for. We would hang on to everything that was beamed on the idiot box and we would lap it all up. But one programme I used to watch as a boy and thought to be the greatest show of all time was, Johnny Sokko and his Flying <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SaD4FCEcBII/AAAAAAAAATQ/SXJcYb8TNSA/s1600-h/sokko.jpg"></a>Robot. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305517978269659570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 184px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SaD8fcw2MbI/AAAAAAAAATo/5obs4qr8th8/s320/sokkorobot.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">For the uninitiated, it is a Japanese Tokusatsu (which literally means, Special Effect) series about a Japanese boy, Johnny Sokko and his Flying Robot who save the world from the evil plans of Emperor Guillotine from the planet Gargoyle. Johnny is joined in his adventures by a young man named Jerry Mano, who is secretly Member U3 of the top-secret peacekeeping organization, Unicorn, which even Johnny joins after their fateful first meeting. So each episode would consist of Guillotine trying to destroy the earth by sending a missile or a monster and Johnny and His Robot fighting it off. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">It was such a pleasure to watch the show. Now when I look back at it, it was crude and very primitive in style compared to what we have today. But back then, when you’re was not even 10, who would care or even bother about it. That was the best shit we were getting to watch and it was great. For an elite crime-fighting group, Johnny and his team members wore scooter helmets and not so flattering clothes. Guillotine himself had a large blue head with tentacles extending from the bottom of the head, wore a long robe, and carried a staff with a white orb. His terrorist army called Gargoyle consisted of a pretty incompetent bunch that wore uniforms like Soviet soldiers and greeted Emperor Guillotine with a Hitleresque hail, a la Japanese Nazi. And Flying Robot, for some strange reason looked nothing like a Japanese character, what with a Pharaoh kind of hairdo and face. Still, with all it’s limitations of low budget production and not so advanced technology, it made for a great watch. They beamed the series dubbed in English, which we never noticed. To us, that’s the way the Japs spoke English, with the lips movements and uttered word having no relationship whatsoever. Even if you missed the dialogues, you’d never miss the context as the facial expressions of Japanese actors would successfully convey it. The only exception was the Giant Robot who was a wee bit less expressive than John Abraham.</span><br /><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The reason, I think, Johnny Sokko struck a chord with kids around the world was that somewhere, somehow they saw themselves in both the characters. I am sure, whoever watched the series then secretly or not so secretly so wished to have a Giant Robot friend at his or her command, to thrash the bullies around. I remember, I wanted to be Johnny Sokko and Giant Robot both. I would pretend to be Johnny Sokko and call my imaginary giant Robot on my two-size-too-big fake branded china-made digital watch. And then I would do the Robot part too, complete with the ‘robotic’ hand movements, before flying off. Now when I think of it, so many memories of the show and its impact on me, flood my mind. I still remember the last episode where the Giant Robot finally battles with Guillotine himself. The robot had used up all his nuclear energy and had no strength left. Guillotine increases his size to that of the robot, but his body is a mass of atomic energy. So if a bullet were to hit him, his body would explode and the entire Earth would explode with him. Johnny activates Giant Robot’s auxiliary power source and fights Guillotine. He disobeys Johnny’s commands to stop attacking and flies into Space with Guillotine and they collide with a meteor destroying them both. Johnny Sokko breaks into tears and as Johnny, Gerry and the rest of the Unicorn Agency salute the Giant Robot we are left with the words “And so the saga comes to an end. Giant Robot sacrificed himself to save the Earth from the terrible Guillotine but, who knows, when Johnny desperately needs him again, perhaps like a miracle he will come back out of the sky.” But that never happened. The Robot flew up, up and away, never to come back. I remember I cried my eyes out when Giant Robot ‘died’. </span></span><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Thankfully I stumbled upon some forums and these videos on youtube. I can’t be thankful enough to the gentle souls who share the same love for Johnny Sokko as me. Guys, thanks to you, I got to revisit a part of my childhood. I’m sure you’d love them as much as I did. Adding a couple of links here, you can see more in youtube, sadly the sites like hulu and Johnny sokko.org where you can see entire episodes for free are only available in America.<br /></span></div></span><br /><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x74GTv9BylQ"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x74GTv9BylQ</span></a><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNmeixYw9m0"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNmeixYw9m0</span></a><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br />I do a lot of nonsense TV watching now, flipping channels after channels endlessly, what with so many channels nowadays, but hardly anything captivating enough to watch. In the good ol’ days of Doordarshan we didn’t have the luxury. Or rather we didn’t need it. </span></div>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-36458391215209474292009-01-11T00:01:00.000-08:002009-09-05T00:01:15.848-07:00Slumdog Millionaire<div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I, like so many of us ‘advertising types’ have already seen 'Slumdog Millionaire' before it has got its theatrical release in India. Now, don’t ask me how…you know, wink, wink! But anyway, that’s not importan<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SWmojC7Ax2I/AAAAAAAAAP0/lwHqhvRwjVo/s1600-h/article.jpg"></a>t. Some of the people in my offic<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SWmq5ini_pI/AAAAAAAAAQU/g9yqXgvmzmY/s1600-h/article.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289947142845300370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 310px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 148px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SWmq5ini_pI/AAAAAAAAAQU/g9yqXgvmzmY/s320/article.jpg" border="0" /></a>e who’ve watched the film as well, are all praises about the film. Everybody is like “what a gre<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SWmoy8-xD1I/AAAAAAAAAP8/UHA76aS83DI/s1600-h/article.jpg"></a>at film it is”, and “how you need an outsider to make a ‘real’ film about India”. The thing is I really didn’t like the film. And I’ve been much mocked and reviled for not liking a ‘truly great film’. But, I didn’t. Now I thought I’ll keep my mouth shut about it and not act the movie pundit, but I simply can’t help it. The western media is all gung-ho about the film, what with calling it an ‘epic fantasy movie’ and ‘movie of the year’ and all that. I believe, it is really not ‘great’ cinema as it is made out to be. Is it entertaining? Yes. Is it visually dazzling? Of course. Is it a great film? Not by a yard.<br /><br />The western world is, and forever has been in love with our misery, poverty and the perverseness of our society. They love to romanticize it, taking it to bilblical proportions. Like Johnny Depp <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SWmrHToGUjI/AAAAAAAAAQc/bhblb5Tkiew/s1600-h/untitled+v.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289947379339252274" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 184px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 145px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SWmrHToGUjI/AAAAAAAAAQc/bhblb5Tkiew/s320/untitled+v.bmp" border="0" /></a>calls ‘Shantaram’ his bible. Or when Lars Von Trier challenged his mentor Jorgen Leth to remake <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SWmpFg3mVeI/AAAAAAAAAQE/Dh30QfmKS64/s1600-h/untitled+v.bmp"></a>his celebrated documentary, ‘The Perfect Human’ in 5 different extremes situations, guess <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SWmqVxkRp3I/AAAAAAAAAQM/O3XI7MIym4c/s1600-h/untitled+v.bmp"></a>which place he chose when he was asked to make it in what he considers ‘the-worst-place-on-the-earth’?! Yes, you guessed it right! Bombay!! Kamathipura, the red-light district in Bombay, to be more precise. So it is this kind of romantic love the westerners have for India, which the Slumdog Millionaire is product of. Colours, kistch, homeless kids, organised crime, poverty, </span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Call centers, police brutality…and yeah, a Shakespearean love story above it all. And you have your most human movie of the year. Not that we haven’t seen it before. It’s just that we’ve seen better. Like Mira Nair’s ‘Salaam Bombay’ a powerhouse of a debut film. Slumdog Millionaire just doesn’t do it. It just never rises from a level of morbidity. Slumdog tries too hard to be an entertainer. It is as good a movie on India as ‘Crash’ was about the state of America. Full of cliches. Jamal, the protagonist of Slumdog is like ‘forrest Gump’. He is in the middle of everything, every evil of our society, It is like the ‘Forrest Gump’ in India, only difference being unlike Forrest, Jamal, rarely ever meets anybody with a heart. We are in India, not America, remember.<br /><br />The movie has an interesting format, ripped from the writer Vikas Swarup’s novel ‘Q&amp;A’ and turned into a rags-to-riches story by writer Simon Beaufoy. But that’s about it. Like I said, the film never rises above the story. One more thing I absolutely hated was the fact that the characters spoke in English, which looked so-so fake. I know the film has been made for a western audience, and that it is an ‘English’ film, but it just doesn’t sound right. Remember the Chinese films that you watch dubbed in English where the characters talk in ‘Chinese English’. You get the picture, right?! And then it doesn’t help that the dialogues are really flat. I know it’s asking for too much but I wish the film was shot in hindi with english subtitles, just the way ‘Letters from Iwo Jima’ was shot. Dialogues in English by Indian characters, that too mouthed by the characters who belong to the slums, just doesn’t do it. More so when Dev Patel (Jamal) sounds and looks every bit the British lad that he is. Anil Kapoor does his bit, so do the rest of the cast, especially Mahesh Manjrekar who gives a very balanced performance. The film is shot brilliantly by cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle, and the score by A.R. Rehman is good. But that’s almost all that I found good about the film. The only other Danny Boyle films that I’ve seen are Trainspotting’ and ‘The Beach’. The Beach was entertaining, nicely shot, great score and a brilliant performance by Leo DiCaprio. And I think Trainspotting had everything going for it, the right mix of the dialogue, the music, the performances, the direction, the production values, the humor, the shock-value.<br /><br />And above all, in these films, you see a director who is in-charge of his material, one who is at home with the subject and their circumstances. Sadly, with Slumdog Millionaire, it isn’t the case.<br /><br /><br /></div></span></div></div></div></div></div>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-82706105182792488622008-12-30T08:19:00.000-08:002009-09-05T00:12:49.130-07:00Mall-Mutra<span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;">Been planning to write this post down for so long, finally did. The title is courtesy Kaushik da, which so aptly describes in a word what i'll take an entire post to.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Somehow or the other, I just couldn’t manage to take a vacation back home to Calcutta in more than 2 years. I finally went there this pujas. Once there, I realized it was a bad idea to be in Calcutta during pujas as the entire city is out on the street. It’s one big carnival, a big orgy of people on the streets, all dolled up with particularly nowhere to go but from this end of the town to the other visiting pandals. Which needless to say is not exactly my idea of fun in Calcutta. So there I was, in the middle of it all, and hoping for it to pass. Which it did after the four days of pujas and I got my city back. Just the way I like it, or should I say the way I liked it. Call me a little hung-up or whatever but I have forever been a fan of the Calcutta of yore, of the old Victorian charm, which already was in it’s way out while we were growing up.<br /><br />I had planned to write my next post on the old Bungalows or ‘Baadis’ of my locality in particular and of Calcutta in general. I have grown up in Elgin Road, which they now insist on calling Lala Lajpat Rai Sarani. Elgin Road, sourrounded by Bishop Lefroy Road, Lee Road is now one of the most so called ‘happening’ part of Calcutta what with ‘this’ mall and ‘that’ shopping complex sprouting all around. The only old baadi left on Elgin Road is house no. 38/2. The house of Subhash Chandra Bose, now known as Netaji Bhawan. And the only reason it’s standing intact and preserved is because it is now a museum and a tourist spot. It’s the house from where Netaji escaped to his freedom, with the dream of India’s armed struggle. A dream which was lost. Much like the world which Elgin Road was. Other than Netaji’s House, this locality was dotted with old bungalows, each one grand and beautiful in it’s architecture. Baadis like Rajabadi, Lal Kuthi, Phoolbadi with their Buicks(mostly left as a showpiece only) or Fiats parked were such a delight to the eyes. Reminiscent of a world gone by. A world I am so romantic about. I wanted to take pictures, but there remains nothing to click, but ugly vertical buildings in their place, all bought over by land-sharks and converted into ugly multiplexes and Shopping Complexes, or ‘flats’(The word itself is so uninspiring, isn’t it?!). The families who lived in these buildings have lost their sheen much like the buildings they owned, so they were forced to sell them and move into the oblivion of Calcutta by-lanes, making room for the neo rich of the city.<br /><br />Calcutta is going through a weird time, a weird phase, one which is torn between the old and new. At one side, it is as dirty and as unorganized at it could be, and on the other side, the malls are mushrooming, the misery and grandeur lives side by side, rather uncomfortably. The city doen’t have the flamboyance of Delhi, or recklessness of Bombay, which ends up making it a nowhere land at the moment. That certain something, which is so Calcutta, which is hard to put down in words, in phrases, is getting lost. In its reckless quest to become a global city its losing its charm, its identity, its character. And what is a city without a character!<br /><br />I had planned to photograph the old ‘Baadis’ of Elgin Road, along with this post, but then, none are left to be. </span>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-8258918808356902962008-11-30T04:54:00.000-08:002009-09-05T00:19:49.585-07:00BOMBay Calling<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">On Thursday morning, I made some calls to my friends in Bombay. You know, the usual, I-hope-your-ass’s-safe? calls we are so used to making every two month or so nowadays. Great way of keeping in touch. Pardon my sarcasm, but how exactly is one supposed to react? I can’t think of any other, because getting angry and sulking and licking our wounds is all we’ve been forced to do forever. Just 2 months back, I wrote my post on the Delhi attack, and I was sure I will not write another on this one, because what purpose does it solve anyway? It will be another one of those ‘me too’ posts, and I hate that. And moreover I have forever hated terms like the spirit of this and that people talk about everywhere, on TV, on the streets, at home, offices, and their blogs. To fucking hell with that. People don’t go back to their work and their life as they used to be because of some god damn spirit, but for the compulsion of commerce. In thse times, a Babu who goes to MNCs is as insecure about his daily bread as a rickshaw puller. So there, so much for the spirit of ‘humankind’. I have said and I still do, that there is nothing heroic about being an asshole in the line of fire. But this time, it’s different. It’s not a military attack. It’s war against India. Everybody’s calling it India’s 9/11. Yeah, true! Let’s see how we follow up on this attack. Americans, once it was established that it was Al Qaeda after the attacks on US soil, made sure they ‘smoked them out’, as Bush would put it. But here, our political babus are busy playing it out in public again.<br /> <br />But we’ve had enough of you guys taking us for granted and promising people ‘compensation’ for their life and yet another promise of a ‘committee’ or some such shit. Vanita sent me a piece, which so rightly expresses the mood of the people and thank God for that! Here it is…<br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Hi all,<br />Fathers, brothers, mothers, sisters, all of them. I know we would all like to honour their memory and respect the sacrifice of those who died in the line of duty.<br />So if anyone suggests a 'peace march' or a candle in the window, or a human chain, or a message wall celebrating the city's resilience… tell them to F*%K OFF. Our city has had enough! No more candles, no more marches, no more resilience. People don't go back to work bravely facing down the terrorists – they go back to work DESPITE their fear and terror because they need to feed their families! Don't accept the insulting insinuation that we're somehow equipped to deal with this – we're not! And someone needs to do something about this fact – we want action.<br />The Police aren't equipped to deal with this – not all of them we're armed, and most of them that were, had antique .303 rifles. 3 of Mumbai's best cops were taken out – how easy will be to replace their wealth of experience and leadership?<br />And of course, the Delhi flock of vultures has descended to meet victims at hospitals and in one case, give a rabble-rousing speech in front of a still-untaken hotel. Tell them to f*%k off. Now they will talk about whose fault it is and why it happened despite 'intelligence alerts'. BTW, where is Raj Thackeray? We should've sent him and his goons in FIRST to protect 'aamchi Mumbai'. Why the silence? Or is he only good for bashing up labourers and taxi-drivers, and is content for the real fighting and dying to be done by soldiers from all over India?<br />In memory of those who were killed, injured &amp; maimed, I beg you – DO NOT accept platitudes. DO NOT accept bland assurances. DEMAND action. Tomorrow, God forbid, it could be you.</span> <br /><br />We have to give some spine to our effort in combating terrorism. AND FAST! More and more fanatical youths are being trained to wage a war against us while we wait for our phone calls from Bombay checking if our asses are safe this time. </span>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-88775710646171206052008-11-21T09:59:00.000-08:002009-09-05T00:01:23.396-07:00Dostana<span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW……....................................<br /></strong>That’s how you go again and again when you watch the latest candy-floss offering from the house of Dharma. Like all Dharma Productions, its full of fun, frolic and rose tinted vision of the world, and nothing wrong with that. Taran Adarsh calls it a pathbreaking film and all that jackshit about it being a great ‘gay’ film but believe me this is not a film about gays, this is a film on gay jokes. And I say again, nothing wrong with that. And the thing is that if you have followed american sitcoms like Friends and Seinfeld, you have heard all the gay jokes. All they have done is put the jokes in hindi and some jokes which they can’t put in hindi, they’ve simply kept them as is in english. The film is funny as a whole and hilarious in parts though it tends to drag in the second half. While watching the film, I realised that the biggest achievement Karan Johar and Co. have is making some very western concepts homogenised and acceptabe to the Indian audience ( ‘Homo’ genised and acceptable to Indians, ironically funny, no!?). I mean the same Pammi Aunties and their children who watch Balika Badhu and never EVER switch on a Star World or such ‘english’ channels were laughing their heads off at all the ‘situations’. The film is set in Miami where a hot shot photographer (John Abraham) and a hairy male nurse (Abhishek Bachchan) end up pretending to be gay partner, to share an apartment with bhartiya sanskaaron wali ‘baby’ (Priyanka Chopra). And then what happens is full of those awwww…moments, happy shiny people, song and dance thrown in and some more awwww…moments which continues for some time till you start wondering if the film is at all going anywhere. First- time director Tarun Mansukhani has done his job well, and he more than enough pays his homage to his mentor, what with the movie full of Karan Johar movie references used in such ‘gay’ abundance that at times it looks like a home made video for Karan Johar. Of the cast, Abhishek Bachchan is really good with his comic timing, Priyanka looks hot. Period. John Abraham plays an eye-toffee who portrays 8 basic emotions and more with ‘equal’ ease, a sample here… </span></span><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SSb5JzXaLOI/AAAAAAAAAPc/kxI-v3QbJaw/s1600-h/john.jpg"></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SSb6RnciHLI/AAAAAAAAAPs/hhgbLyEyy8Y/s1600-h/john+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271175594437123250" style="WIDTH: 412px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 115px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SSb6RnciHLI/AAAAAAAAAPs/hhgbLyEyy8Y/s320/john+1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Kiron Kher’s role is something she has done before, that of a loud punjabi mother, only a lot louder this time. And Boman Irani gets all the parts which Anupam Kher used to get at one time. And Sushmita Mukherjee, who is supposed to be a sindhi but strangely speaks a weird accent which to me sounded more like a cliched bengali accent, I don’t know what exactly to call it. Singali, maybe. And then there is this firang guy in a small wee bit of a role, as officer Xavier whose acting is more balanced than many people with bigger role. And yeah, Bobby Deol is also there in the movie. To sum up, Dostana is a fairy tale love story Karan Johar never had. Wink-wink. </span></span><br /></span>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7169739804005123794.post-74891696773337623802008-10-01T21:26:00.000-07:002009-09-05T00:10:57.548-07:00Yeh Ho Chuka hai??<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong><em>‘Does committing a crime make you a criminal?’</em></strong><br /><br />Sanjay Gadhvi surely doesn’t think so. Hey, lifting off ideas is no crime. In bollywood it’s called inspiration. Don’t believe me? Ask <strong><em>Sanjay Gupta, Guddu Dhanoa, Anu malik</em></strong> (or is it <strong><em>annu malek</em></strong>?), <strong><em>Pritam</em></strong>, the list goes on longer than the Nile. These fine men take <em>inspiration</em> from international films and music and whatever and ‘indianise’ it and bring it to us lesser Indian mortals. In fact, they are doing us a favour. Opening up the world to us.<br /><br />Okay, now coming back to the question ‘Does committing a crime make you a criminal?’</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">That’s the BIG question on which <strong><em>Sanjay Gadhvi’s</em></strong> yet to be released film, <strong>Kidnap</strong> treads on.<br />Vikrant Raina, net worth 51.7 billion dollars. No more <em>pachchaas tola</em> and <em>do peti</em> roles for Sanju Baba. In <strong>Kidnap</strong> he is, in his own words, “The richest Indian in the world” . They say, in advertising there is no such thing as an ‘original idea’. Whatever there is to be said has been said before, done before. ‘Yeh ho chuka hai’ are the four goddamn words an advertising person dreads the most but is subjected to, everyday. But Sanjay Gadhvi of course had no such problem. So he is bringing us a film, which by the look of it doesn’t look like it’s been inspired by just one film, but a motley crew of films. One look at the promos and one can tell he is a big ‘fan’ of Korean films, so what better way to pay homage than to take inspiration from a whole lot of them. Looking at the promos one can tell that there is a bit of <strong>‘Save the Green Planet’</strong>, the directorial debut of Korean director <strong><em>Jang Jun-Hwan</em></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">, about a guy who kidnaps a rich entrepreneur who is responsible for his misfortune. And then there is a bit of Korean director <strong><em>Chan-wook Park’s</em></strong> <strong>‘Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance’</strong>, a story about a young girl’s kidnap gone wrong. Only in Sympathy the young girl drowns in the water, unlike Minissa Lamba who takes up the oppurtunity to get into a bikini and do a little song and dance. I told you guys about the Indian ‘touch’, didn’t I? And then there is a bit of <strong><em>‘</em>The Cut’</strong>, another film by <em><strong>Park</strong></em>. It’s about a couple held hostage in their own home by a man, who makes the guy follow his instructions or else see his wife killed by the kidnapper. So there, at least 3 juicy stories concocted to make one wholesome indian offer. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SORVQ_86VPI/AAAAAAAAAOs/zZe0pkMkooU/s1600-h/both.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252416815954023666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 196px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 190px" height="297" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_01wcpX_Qje0/SORVQ_86VPI/AAAAAAAAAOs/zZe0pkMkooU/s320/both.jpg" width="285" border="0" /></a>And the inspiration doesn’t just end there. <em><strong>Imraan Khan’s</strong></em> look is inspired by <strong><em>Travis Bickle, </em></strong>who in my opinion is the most human hero of all times. Now that’s too much. Imran Khan is a promising guy, but jaane tu ya jaane na Mr. Gadhvi, Imran can’t hold no candle to <strong><em>Robert GOD De Niro</em></strong>. Or anybody can for that matter.<br /><br />It’s Friday morning and in some time people will have a first public screening of the film. The eternal supporter of indian films that I am, I would be delighted to eat my words and see Mr. Gadhvi dishing out a ‘fresh’ film instead of a cheap rehash of some really brilliant international films. But I have a feeling he will not disappoint me, or should I say he will.</span><br /></span>vimsicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10776848435204840783noreply@blogger.com3